


Coach

by inkiestdawn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29005935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkiestdawn/pseuds/inkiestdawn
Summary: Castiel and reader, well matched in their sexual awkwardness and inexperience, have had a few fumbling attempts at intimacy that resulted in more than a little frustration and embarrassment. Cas decides to draw on Dean’s wealth of knowledge and confidence and asks him to coach them into the finals (goodness but that’s an awful synopsis isn’t it but fuck it, there it is).This is obviously a Cas x Reader pairing with Dean acting as coach and horny voyeur. No small red shorts.
Relationships: Castiel/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	Coach

Coach

In theory, it should be lip-biting, nail-dragging, breath-catching passion. Your first impression of the angel was muddled by an instant, startling attraction. At the time, your acquaintance with the Winchesters was growing to something much stronger, a bond, and you were not immune to their good looks and charm. Meeting Castiel knocked the wind out of you, quite literally, as he appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a hunt. Chasing down a vamp, a runner from a nest you busted with Dean and Sam, Castiel not-quite cushioned your fall when one of the bloodsuckers caught you off guard and propelled you into a brick wall.

Your few scattered relationships and fumbling attempts at experimentation clashed with the angel’s complete lack of experience and his odd…otherness. All things human equally fascinated and perplexed him; sex being at the very top of that list. His first glimpses of it, through his association with the Winchesters, were confusing but they engaged in it enough for him to decipher a pattern. His curiosity caused more than enough awkward moments and he came to understand that sex was private and intimate. A realization that became much clearer when he met you. He felt something new stirring inside the strange body he inhabited, something that left him feeling the urge to do much more than just be near you.

The first kiss was quick and, perhaps because of the brevity, quite perfect. You took advantage of the few opportunities you had to touch, his fingers brushing the back of your hand, the intoxicating proximity of his body as he whispered his desire to be with you. That perfection was inconsistent in further encounters, deeper kisses clumsy and confusing for Castiel as he tried to wrestle with the urges of his body and the constant questioning of the alien being inhabiting it. He did not need to sleep or eat and so had difficulty reconciling with this ever-persistent need. It made him feel vulnerable. He often cut off encounters rather abruptly when he realized that his hands were cupping and grasping and exploring intimate parts of your anatomy and that his own corporeal form was having- to him- extremely odd reactions. The first time he experienced an erection had him concerned that it was a permanent condition. He beamed himself out of the situation so quickly you didn’t speak with him for a week.

As for the Winchesters experience in the matter translating into help, Sam would purse his lips, furrow his brow, and bear march his way out of room when Cas brought up the topic. Dean would huff a laugh and shake his head. As time went on and they all grew closer, Dean started to take the situation more seriously.

“Look, Cas, everything you’re, uh, experiencing is normal, you know?”

“No, Dean,” Cas replied, “I don’t know.”

“Right.”

In the pause as Dean tried to collect his thoughts, Cas mumbled, “If only you could be there and tell me what to do. I want to do it right but I can’t seem to control myself and I…” he became increasingly flustered as he spoke, “seem to get it all wrong.”

It took a lot less beer than he anticipated to convince himself it was the right thing to do and during a night out not soon after that conversation, Dean decided it was time to intervene.

It was rare you had a room to yourself. It was much more economical and sometimes quite necessary to bunk with the Winchesters as you nursed wounds and prodded one another awake during the night after a nasty head wound. When Dean returned with two keys, you didn’t think much of it. The wink and silent laugh made you pause but not long enough that you thought it through. You happily snatched the key from Dean’s outstretched hand and hightailed it to your room for a night of privacy. A part of you hoped Cas would make an appearance but you knew not to take it personally if he didn’t.

“Really?” Cas’ gaze was so intense Dean took a half step back, “you would do that?”

“Have a seat,” Dean gestured to Sam’s unoccupied bed and sat down at the edge of his own bed. The moment he settled, his brain reeled. He rubbed his hands on his thighs and thought of where to begin.

“So, uh, what have you…” this should not be so damn hard, Dean thought, “done so far?”

“Done?” Cas tilted his head to the side.

“With y/n, Cas.”

“Ah, well. We have kissed and touched.”

“Alright,” Dean took a deep breath and forced his thoughts into a linear pattern, the basics. The more he thought about it, Dean realized, the more questions he had. “What do you know about, uh, female anatomy?”

Cas’ mouth formed a hard line as he thought about it. “You mean breasts and the vagina?”

Dean would swear he saw Cas blush.

“Yes, ok, that! So, the vagina is,” he moved his hands about, trying to accentuate the words and help himself find the right ones, “an ensemble. There’s the vulva, which is,” he cupped his hand trying to think of how to paint that particular picture. He frowned and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. A quick search and he found what he was looking for. He held the phone out to Cas who studied the image. Dean pointed to the diagram, “the vulva is the outer parts, the labia and,” he leaned closer, “here is the clitoris. People tend to think of sex as purely penetration where,” Dean leaned back and licked his lips, feeling his heartbeat quicken, “Cas, that’s just a small part of it. Kissing is crucial, touching too. I…” Dean realized he was floundering and, by the look on Cas’ face, not really helping.

“Ok,” he tried again, “it’s about pleasure, right? The destination is great, I mean, really great, but the journey, the foreplay, the exploration, the…” he was off track again.

“Can’t you just tell me what to do?” Cas asked.

“That’s what I’m failing to do here…”

“No, I mean, be there?”

Dean ran full stop into that thought and found himself breathless and at a loss for words.

“Would that be wrong?”

Dean shook his head, “Well, I mean…shit, Cas, you want me to watch?”

“Not watch so much as coach me through it.”

The bed creaked as Dean got up and quick stepped to the mini fridge. He yanked the door open, grabbed a beer, beheaded the damn thing and had half of the contents down his gullet before the need for a next breath forced his to come up for air. Unbidden, the image of you and Cas in bed together, naked, waiting for orders….Dean downed the rest of his beer and braced himself on the fridge as it all went to his head.

**

You opened the door, heart skipping at the sight of a disheveled looking Cas. You pushed the door open to let him in, pausing at the sight of Dean. The elder Winchester brother looked a bit glassy about the eyes and uncomfortable about the mouth.

“Hey, uh, guys,” you said.

“Y/N,” Cas said. When he didn’t make a move to enter your room, you took a half step back.

“What’s up?”

Cas looked at Dean who was staring hard at his boots.

“Well,” Cas began, “I’ve been thinking about our attempts at kindling an intimate relationship and came the conclusion that we could use some help.”

Goddamn but Cas could have told you that he had signed up for a hot dog eating contest and you wouldn’t have been more perplexed until his words, and Dean’s presence, hit you. Embarrassment ripped through any confusion right quick, leaving the cinders of that comfortable feeling in its wake and you yearning for the comfortable bliss of ignorance. You were not unaware that your path to getting the angel in the sack was slow but…shit.

“I want to do this right, y/n,” Cas said.

“Uh,” you wet your lips and swallowed against the grip anxiety had on your throat. You would have liked to think this one through, analyze the data and come to a crisp conclusion as to what in the sweet-fucking-Jesus-in-short-pants was going on but your body decided it would handle the situation and flushed your bits with a healthy dose of lust and fuck-yeah. Dean knew the signs and watched it happen, saw your pupils widen and breath quicken, the shift in your weight to one leg had his own thoughts swirling. You caught his eye and looked quickly away, head spinning. Cas, bless his feathered ass, stood there looking earnest and sweet.

“So,” you started again, “what do you have in mind?” You addressed Castiel, unable to look directly at Dean.

“Well,” Cas took a step closer and reached out for your hands. He looked so damned sweet and awkward that you were halfway between a laugh and a sob when he said, “Dean can tell us- me- what to do.”

“Jesus,” you whimpered. You could see Dean out of the corner of your eye and wondered if you could send a silent prayer to Cas to zap you out of the room and into, oh, some less painful and embarrassing layer of hell. But Cas was the one who created this particular dilly-of-a-pickle scenario and some part of you, buried right deep under mounds of humiliation, understood his motivation.

“We could have just watched some…videos,” you hissed.

“I tried that,” Cas said, mimicking your tone, “it just confused me more. I don’t know where to find a babysitter and am not comfortable with the idea of watching a plumber,” he held up his hands and did air quotes, “clean your pipes.”

“Look,” Dean stepped forward, “this doesn’t have to be weird.”

You snorted because he looked and sounded about as convinced as you were of the high level of weirdness the situation ranked. He gave you some serious side eye and continued, “Let’s just give it a try and if it gets…” he tried to look for a word other than ‘weird’ and settled for “uncomfortable, we stop. We can have a safe word.”

“Erection,” Cas said, in a tone that reminded you of Rain Man and the phonebooth scene. It was decidedly unattractive and you decided it might be the right time to put you all out of your misery and pull the plug on this.

“What?” Dean was frowning at the angel, trying and failing not to glance at the front of his pants for evidence of an actual erection.

“You mentioned a safe word,” Castiel said, “it was the first thing that came to mind.”

You sputtered a laugh and were grateful when Dean decided to field that one.

“No, Cas, a safe word is something you wouldn’t normally, uh, associate with a situation. Something, like, uh,” he looked around the room, “door knob.”

Castiel frowned, “Well, I saw one video…”

Dean held up his hands and interrupted before Cas could continue and pull the plug completely on a quickly dying mood. “Forget that, let’s say,” his eyes and grin widened, “thunderdome. If you get uncomfortable and want to stop, you say thunderdome.”

“Ok,” Castiel nodded slowly and looked to you. “What do you think?”

It was difficult to think of a way this could get any more awkward but then your attempts to bone the angel had been unsuccessful so far and you were one fumbling makeout sesh away from humping lumpy motel pillows. Between the pillows and having Dean Winchester coach you along, your body was all but begging for the latter.

“First off,” Dean said before you could answer, “and most importantly,” he held up a finger and waggled it towards Castiel, “do you both consent?”

“Oh, yes,” Castiel said. That did it.

“Yeah,” you said, “why not?”

“Alright,” Dean interlaced his fingers and pushed his hands out in a stretch. He sat on the edge of the dresser and slowly started rolling up the sleeves of his plaid overshirt. When he looked up, his eyes appeared two shades darker and the smile on his face made the muscles in your legs liquify.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice was almost a full octave lower, “I want you to run your thumb over y/n’s bottom lip. Not too soft.”

You blinked rapidly but didn’t have time to really consider Dean’s command when Castiel closed the distance between you and did as the hunter asked. His shoulders relaxed, easing down and he appeared to take you in, eyes moving quickly as he looked you over. Your attention was on his eyes when you felt the pad of his thumb, rough and dry and cool, pass over your bottom lip.

“When you kiss her, I want you to do it slowly. Everything, your lips, your tongue. Slow.”

Cas leaned closer and dipped his head down. When his lips touched yours, a tingle ran down the backs of your legs. He did as Dean asked, lips parting along with your own, tongue brushing gently past your lips. You sighed into his mouth and let your head fall back, lips to part, even more. There was something about the way he moved that felt calmer, more confident, and you felt your own tension ease.

“Y/N, take Castiel’s coat off.”

You ran your hands up and over the hard planes of Castiel’s abdomen, chest and shoulders, pushing the jacket down his back and arms. It pooled at his feet.

“Good,” Dean said. You heard him shift and saw him lean in to pull the overcoat out of the way. “Now Cas, what part of y/n do you want to touch first?”

Castiel’s kiss, which had deepened and he leaned into with enthusiasm, stuttered to an abrupt pause. He blinked fast, startled out of his blissful concentration.

And this was the issue, you thought, laying your palms on his chest in what you hoped was an encouraging gesture. You were good until it came to next. You both seemed to have an issue letting go and allowing it all to progress without overthinking what comes next. You had a brief moment of embarrassment when Dean said, “take her shirt off.”

Castiel did as he was told, knuckles brushing against your stomach as he gathered the fabric. He pulled the shirt up and over your head, chuckling as static snapped and crackled through your hair. When you tilted your head back, you gasped at the feeling of his lips at the edge of your jaw.

“That’s it,” Dean said. The shirt dropped to the floor. “Hold her head and kiss down her neck.”

The breadth of Castiel’s palm cupped the back of your head, long fingers spanning your skull and weaving through your hair. He trailed the fingers of his right hand down the column of your throat, following the touch with his lips. You made a sound, half moan, half gasp, that felt like release.

“Unbutton Cas’ shirt,” Dean said, “and I want you to kiss his chest and, uh…”

Your thoughts on the command given and the way it made your head spin and blood rush to wet center between your legs, you ignored whatever came next, your focus on the simple white button at eye level. Fingers trembling, you pushed the button through the hole and placed your lips on the exposed skin below Castiel’s collar bone. You could feel as well as hear his moan rumble up his chest and past his lips. He still held your head in one hand but his own had fallen back, eyelids fluttered shut, dark lashes resting on his cheeks. The next button gave way more easily as your fingers moved with more certainty, lips trailing kisses and tongue stealing quick tastes of his salty, warm skin. You heard Dean say Castiel’s name but it sounded far away, muffled. You lowered yourself onto your knees, one of Castiel’s hands tangled in your hair, when one of Dean’s boots nudged your calf and broke the haze. He reached down, motioning for you to stand. He held a hand out and you took it, feeling the flush of heat to your face and neck as his gaze traced briefly over the mounds of your cleavage.

“Sit on the edge of the bed,” he said to you. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. The bed was pleasantly firm and gave only a little under your weight.

“Cas, I want you on your knees in front of her,” Dean said, his voice thick.

You watched Castiel get to his knees in front of you, his open shirt allowing for a glimpse of the hard planes of his chest and abdomen. Dean leaned over and whispered something to Castiel. The angel looked back with a questioning frown. Dean bit down on his bottom lip and lowered himself down beside Cas. In one quick move, he placed his shoulders between your knees, placed his elbows beneath your thighs, hands on your thighs and pulled until your ass was perched on the very edge of the bed. He pulled quickly away and shifted aside, making room for Castiel.

“Unbutton her pants,” he said, “and when you take them off, pull her panties down.”

Castiel’s nostrils flared. He swallowed hard and turned to you. Hands trembling slightly, he fumbled with the button of your jeans. Dean placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in, “breathe.”

Cas nodded, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. The button came undone and he worked the zipper down. The feel of his fingers against your waist, slipping behind the waist band of your pants and underwear, made you gasp. You watched the muscles in his shoulders and his biceps flex as he worked the fabric over your hips and down your thighs. When you settled back on the bed after some shifting, you could feel the wetness spreading between your legs, warm against your inner thighs.

“Goddamn,” Dean turned his head away and muttered. The hunter’s face was flushed and a sheen of sweat glistened on his upper lip.

Pants tossed aside, Castiel knelt between your thighs looking just as flustered as Dean. The hunter dragged his fingers up the thighs and balled his hands into fists.

“Ok,” he rasped, “Cas, Jesus, I want you to do as I did, pull y/n’s hips forward to,” he cleared his throat, “open her up to you.”

You gasped and gripped the bed covers. Castiel pulled his shirt off, muscles of his shoulders working. He leaned forward and did exactly as Dean had demonstrated. He shouldered your knees wider apart and positioned himself so that your thighs were resting on his biceps. He pulled you closer, his shoulders wedging your legs further apart. The sensation of air between your legs where you were hot and wet was almost vulgar, in the best possible way. You gasped again and gripped the sheets tighter both for purchase and for some sense of grounding against the tilt-a-whirl spins in your head.

“Now, uh,” Dean cursed and continued, “I want you to kiss and lick her pussy, Cas.” Dean rubbed a hand over his face. Castiel looked to him for more guidance but Dean’s composure seemed precarious and you took some solace in the fact that you weren’t the only one who felt completely out of control. Dean shifted his hips and when you looked down, you saw the bulge straining against the front of his pants. Jesus H but that was a sight. Focus otherwise diverted, you hadn’t seen the angel dip his head between your legs and cried out at the touch of his tongue against your clit. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and nodded and some part of your brain still capable of something approaching coherent thought wondered if perhaps Dean was, what, praying instruction to Cas? When Cas suckled on your clit, every clear though evaporated into hyper focus on the feeling. The scratch of his stubble on your thighs, the pressure of his fingers, the sound of Dean trying to control his breathing, culminated into more than you felt you could handle. You buried the fingers of your left hand into Castiel’s hair, holding yourself up with your right digging into the covers, back arching and head falling back.

“Yes,” you gasped, “holy f-fuck Cas.”

Castiel moaned and dipped the tip of his tongue inside you, nosing at your clit. He worked his way up, tonguing and kissing, the faintest sensation of his teeth making you reflexively squeeze your knees together. Castiel’s shoulders kept them apart.

“More?” a deep, male voice asked. Somehow, for just a moment, you forgot about the Winchester brother on his knees in front of you.

“I need,” Castiel rasped but said no more, unable to put that need into words. Dean nodded beside him and rested his forehead on the edge of the bed. His shoulder moved with quick, shallow breaths. He turned his head to look at Cas who nodded. Castiel released your shaking thighs. He ran a hand over his cheeks and chin, eyes meeting yours. You swallowed hard against the look in his eyes, dark and filled with lust. Cas pushed himself up enough to press a hand on your belly.

“Lay back,” he said.

You did as he asked. Castiel grabbed your hips and pulled you close. He kissed a path up your thigh and resumed his attentions on your clit, sucking and licking. You felt the press of his fingertips against your entrance and moaned as he slid two fingers inside of you.

“Good,” you heard Dean murmur, “can you feel that?”

Castiel must had nodded or uttered a reply you couldn’t hear because Dean continued.

“Press there,” the hunter said. You arched your back against the pressure Castiel applied to your g-spot. He curved his fingers against it and leaned in close to you, wrapping an arm around your hip to hold you close. You panted and couldn’t help but look down, eyes meeting Dean’s heavy lidded gaze. His lips were dark pink and parted.

“Fuck,” you hissed, falling back on the bed as that tightening, sweet, familiar sensation deep in your abdomen began to build.

“Do you hear her,” Dean asked Castiel, “the way she’s moaning, panting?”

Castiel stopped and turned to face Dean.

“That’s exactly what you want. Do you feel the difference in her pussy, the way it gets softer, wetter,” his voice broke but he continued, “the way her legs are shaking? You can keep going, get her there. Or,” he was looking at you now, “you can keep building up to this point until she’s begging.”

You tried to stifle the sound that came out of you but it forced its way out, a desperate whimper.

“I want,” Castiel managed to say, he sounded strained, “I want more, I want…”

“I know. Get up,” he said. “Both of you.”

Still breathing heavily, you sat up, squeezing your knees together when Castiel pulled himself up to his feet.

“Y/n,” Dean began, eyes on the bulge in Castiel’s pant, “I think you know what to do.”

The breath you took to steady yourself did little to ease the shaking in your hands but you managed to unbutton Castiel’s pants. You took a moment to look up at him, see him close his eyes and tilt his head back, adam’s apple working in his throat as he moaned and took quick gasping breaths. You worked his pants away from his waist to make room for his rigid cock. You had palmed him through his pants before, felt the length of him against you in previous encounters, but never made it so far as to have him naked in front of you. The muscles of his abdomen tightened as you pushed his pants down and wrapped your thumb and middle finger around the base of his cock to tilt it towards your lips. A thought seized you, dirty enough to make you blush and glance up at Dean. He was leaning against the desk, crossed legs doing little to hide his own erection. You reached down between your legs to gather the slick pooling there and rubbed it over Castiel’s cock. The men moaned in unison, Dean burying his face in his hands. Castiel gripped your head in one hand, gently, and whimpered as you worked your grip slowly down his cock and back up again, stroking over the slick, sensitive head of his cock. On your next downstroke, you took him in your mouth.

Castiel muttered intelligible sounds, fingers twitching in your hair. Grasp stroking the base of his cock, you took as much as you could, sucking, aware of the taste of you on him. You eased down Cas’ length, strokes in time with the movement of your mouth, the progress of your lips, tight around him. You paused at the tip to lick, tasting him at the salty dip at the head of his cock. Reaching between his legs, you gently cupped his balls and stifled a laugh when he jerked and gasped with pleasure. A sound from Dean drew your attention and you watched as he undid the button of his jeans to give himself room. Chin pressed down, he almost curled in on himself, palming his erection. You weren’t aware that you had paused until Cas murmured, “Is everything okay?”

Castiel followed your gaze.

“Dean?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah, how fast you two want this to go?” He sounded pained, struggling to regain his composure.

“Shit, sorry,” he said, “uh, Cas, y/n still has her bra on. L-let’s,” he gestured toward you and then ran his hand through his hair, taking deep breaths.

You shifted back on the bed as Castiel eased himself forward, coming to rest on his knees in front of you. The bed springs creaked. Cas dipped his head, lips brushing against yours. He took your lower lip in his mouth, tongue running up and over and inside. You pressed into the kiss, reaching back to help when you felt him fumbling with the clasp of your bra. The stubble on his chin and cheeks was rough against your skin but the feel of his lips, his breath, the taste of his tongue muddled your brain to anything but pleasure.

“I, uh,” Dean spoke up, “I think you have it from here.” He cleared his throat. You bit back a groan of disappointment when Castiel pulled away but followed his gaze to where Dean was making his way to the door.

“Dean,” you had never imagined Castiel’s voice being any deeper, raspier, but there it was, edged with lust. “Stay.”

Dean paused, one hand on the doorknob, and biting back a laugh, you said, “thunderdome.”

Castiel blinked down at you, momentarily confused. Dean, on the other hand, knew exactly what you were saying. He stopped immediately and turned. You felt a pang of guilt at his look of concern.

“I…,” you stammered, “I’m ok, I just…” you looked up at Cas and then back towards the hunter, “stay.”

“Fuck.” Dean shifted his weight and planted his hands on his hips.

Castiel glanced down at you and you felt a moment of panic. It was enough that you had difficulty getting this far with Castiel, you had no idea how you would manage the two men but the thought brought a rush of desire so intense that you had to close your eyes to shut out everything else and center yourself.

“I,” Castiel swallowed, “don’t really know what that would entail but,” you felt a finger slide against the bottom of your chin as Cas tilted your head up. You opened your eyes and met his gaze. He nodded and waited for your response. It was the barest of nods but you couldn’t give your assent anymore enthusiastically without feeling like you were about to self-combust. Castiel turned back to Dean.

“Yes,” he said. Dean let out a long sigh and trembled. He took a half step toward the bed and held his hand out.

“Yeah, fuck yeah,” he said, “but,” he appeared to force the words, “I think I would really like to watch.”

Not about to ask where the confidence had come from, when Castiel looked down at you and said, “Let’s give the man what he wants,” you mustered all of your previously contained enthusiasm into meeting Castiel’s kiss. His lips were soft but the pressure rough and it sent your head spinning. Castiel pushed you back onto the bed and at Dean’s command, “with your knee, Cas, spread her legs,” he did. He didn’t meet any resistance, you shifted to accommodate the width of his hips eagerly.

Dean said something else and you both turned. He held out a packet- a condom- in one hand.

“Fuck,” you gasped, aware of so many sensations at once that it fed your need to the point of almost desperation- the wetness and ache between your legs, the heat radiating off of Castiel, his hips between your thighs and the press of his abdomen against yours. Castiel leaned back onto his heels, the packet between his fingers. You took it from him and tore it, discarding the foil somewhere off to the side and rolled it down onto Castiel’s cock. The angel groaned and muttered, “Dean, I still need you.”

“Yeah, m’here,” Dean replied. He sighed and you watched as he settled himself on the bed next to you. Your fingers were still around Castiel’s cock.

“Cas,” you said, the word sounded like a plea.

“God, Cas,” Dean moaned, “touch her. Feel how your skin is on fire and every touch,” he caught his lower lip between his teeth and bit down before continuing, “is so good. Touch her.”

Cas leaned into you, his lips to yours, chest pressing against your chest, hips pinning you to the bed. He ran the length of his cock down your pussy, the head nudging at the entrance and paused.

“Open your eyes,” he said.

You held his gaze and grabbed his hips, tilted your pelvis up and sighed as he pushed inside of you. Cas’s eyes widened and a shaky breath parted his lips.

“Slow at first, Cas,” Dean said.

You kept your eyes on the angel, some part of your brain still disbelieving. All of the fantasies you had, the moments of self-pleasure, were muted in comparison. Castiel held himself up, looking down at you. His eyes were closed as he eased his hips back, his cock out, and then almost frustratingly slowly eased himself back inside of you. He repeated the motion only once, twice more and lost himself, and any composure he might have had, and quickened his pace.

“Yes,” you moaned, lifting your hips to meet his thrusts. You quickly found a rhythm and met his gaze, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he half smiled, half grimaced in pleasure. The bed creaked and shuddered with the motion, the sound in time with your breath, with Castiel’s breath. Dean had gone quiet and what little consciousness you had left to focus on anything outside of fucking Cas was thankful. You were so wet and your body responded instinctively, eager and accommodating.

Castiel’s pressed his lips to your temple, his ragged breath in your ear. You spared a half thought for performance, wondering if you should switch things up but the building pressure low in your abdomen had your body racing for the finish line.

“F-fuck.” You reached down between you and stroked quickly at your clit. Castiel looked down and gasped.

“Y/N,” he moaned.

You pressed your thighs against his hips, chasing the building sensation, losing yourself to it, panting and gasping as pleasure built until there was nothing but bliss. You cried out, leaned into the feeling, pushed into Castiel and surrendered yourself to the gently diminishing waves of pleasure. In the haze, you momentarily forgot about Cas. When you were able to form coherent thought, you realized that he had stopped. He was watching you, his lips parted, expression soft.

“Was it good?”

Post orgasm, being a decidedly fragile state, is a tricky time to deal with such gentleness. Your heart wrenched in your chest and you nodded, reaching up to touch his face.

“Y-yeah, Cas, it was good.” You were aware of the weight of him, the sensation of his cock in your pussy which still pulsed around him in the aftermath of your climax.

Dean cleared his throat and murmured, “Cas, uh, get on your back.”

You nodded, propped yourself up on your elbows, and eased out from under him. He pulled out reluctantly and you took a moment to squeeze your thighs together against the gentle ache and the odd sensation of hollowness. Cas settled himself back down on the bed and you spared a quick glance at Dean as you straddled the angel. Dean’s face was flushed and he nodded, gaze darting away from you.

Castiel reached up to pull you down, his hand firm on the back of your head. He pressed his lips to yours and, with much more confidence than in previous moments together, kissed you. You reached down and guided his cock up and inside of you, gasping as he moaned.

“You feel so good,” he said, his voice rough.

Easing down the length of him, you placed your hands onto his chest and began rocking your hips up and forward, down and back. Castiel pressed his head back into the bed and squeezed his eyes shut, gripping your hips tight in his hands. The bed springs creaked under your knees, beneath Castiel’s ass. You moved faster, Castiel panting almost in time with your movements. You watched his face, the muscles in his jaw clenching and softening, neck tense.

“Relax, Cas,” Dean said, as though he noticed the tension at the same time as you.

Castiel’s eyes flew open and he gasped, snapping his hips up to drive his cock inside of you even faster.

“I,” he moaned, “uh.” He sat up and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest in a tight embrace and shuddered. You slowed down, easing up and down his length as he came. His own thrusts slowed to a stop. He paused, panting, and all at once, he released his hold on you and fell back onto the bed, one corner of his mouth quirked up and his eyes closed.

“That,” he said, the word heavy and slurred, “was….” His mouth settled into a lopsided smile. He trailed his fingers down your thighs.

You leaned over and kissed him, breathing him in and tasting him before you eased off him and settled down onto the bed, body pressed against the warm, hard length of Castiel’s body. Dean was still seated on the other bed. The hunter’s head was tipped back, eyes closed, nostrils flared.

“You good?” you asked.

Dean opened his eyes and looked at you. It seemed to take him a moment to focus and when he did, his expression was dark, heavy with the promise of something you found yourself quite eager to uncover.

“Coaching is not for me,” he said, “next time, I get to play too.”


End file.
